


Undefined

by clearascountryair



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I finally wrote a Seychelles fic because I realized I hadn't yet, I rated this M to be safe, Love Confessions, but half the time I write FS they want to be naked, but it's not explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 20:43:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7376719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearascountryair/pseuds/clearascountryair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And it hurt, how much she loved him.<br/>No.<br/>No.<br/>Not love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undefined

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thanks to agentcalliope for beta-ing, and to leggy--peggy, who sent me a lovely prompt like, a month ago, and I tried to fill it with fluff and humor and accidentally wrote this instead--and this has no humor and does not actually fill the prompt. At all. I promise I'll fill your prompt eventually.

She knew that there had to be more to life than him, but, dear god, in that moment, she would be content with him as the only entity for the rest of forever.  Eventually she became aware of a world outside of him: a flock of seagulls squawking on the beach, waves crashing into the sand, a cool breeze slipping through the open window and dancing across her hot skin.  After seconds or minutes or hours of telling herself it would be worth it, Jemma allowed her eyes to flutter back open. With all the strength she could muster, she lifted her head ever so slightly to look down at Fitz.  He lay with his cheek against her hip, smiling almost smugly as he traced the freckles of her stomach with one hand, the other still gently rubbing her thigh, where it lay draped over his shoulder.  He absentmindedly kissed her hip bone, causing her to let out a shuddering breath and reach down to her stomach to intertwine her fingers with his.  Fitz blinked himself into reality and tilted his head to smile up at her.

He was beautiful.

“Hi,” he whispered, and, quirking a mischievous eyebrow, turned his head to press a kiss to the impossibly warm skin of her thigh.

She squeezed his hand.  Her lips parted slightly, working to find the words she wanted so desperately to say to him, and she disentangled her hand from his, bringing her fingers to brush along his cheek.  Fitz turned his attention from her leg to kiss her palm.

“Have I taken your breath away?”

She nodded, using all her strength to keep her head up and eyes on him.  “Fitz, I--I--”

Yet, as far as she was concerned, there was not a word in the whole of the English language (nor any other that she knew of), to express what sat clawing at the back of her throat, screaming for release.  She scanned the room desperately, as though something might inspire her to be the wordsmith she had never cared to be, but it was futile.  She let her head fall back against the pillow, bringing her free hand to cover her mouth as she let out a choked cry she had no desire to be making.

“Hey!”  Immediately Fitz clamored up the bed, hovering over her and peppering her face with featherlight kisses.  “Nononono,” he whispered against her jaw.  “Don’t cry.  We don’t cry during sex.  Sex is the only crying-free activity we’ve really got.”

Jemma let out a tearful laugh and cupped his face in her hands.

“I want to tell you I love you,” she said.

He lowered himself, resting his forehead against hers.  “I love you, too.”

But Jemma shook her head and began again.  “I want to tell you I love you,” she said, her voice breaking into an almost frightened whisper, “but I can’t.”

She half expected Fitz to pull away, to move to sit somewhere, anywhere else.  But he snaked his arm around her back and maneuvered them so that they were lying on their sides, face to face, brow to brow, nose to nose.  One arm tightly around her, his other hand found hers and laced their fingers together between their chins.  Tenderly, he kissed her knuckles.

“Take your time,” he whispered.

And it hurt, how much she loved him.

No.

No.

Not love.

_Do you love him?_

_I don’t know!  I think...yes._

She squeezed her eyes shut as a fresh wave of sobs overtook her.

“Jemma,” he whispered, and brought up their hands to brush her tears away without ever releasing.  “Jemma, I’m here, you know.  No matter what, I’ll always be here.”

“No!” She released his hand and threw both arms around his neck, pulling him close and kissing every inch of his face she could reach.  No ‘no matter what.’  She was his, he was hers.  Nothing could ever change that.

“Okay,” he said, “okay.”

And for a long while, he just held her.  Outside, they could hear the start of an afternoon storm, but neither made a move to go shut the window.  The seagulls continued to call out over the soft rumbling of the thunder and the sharp crash of the sea against the shore, and Fitz held Jemma and Jemma held Fitz, as the world tried and failed, again, to come crashing in. Jemma let out a small sob when Fitz’s hand left her back, quieting when he pulled the long discarded sheet around them, protecting them from the storm, the sea, and all those things they could not say.  The smell of the sea had long since infused itself into their hair and skin and the air around them, and Jemma had learned to ignore it, because Fitz was there beside her and she breathed and it was him.  She could hear his heart thumping against his chest and the world faded to nothingness.  She sighed when Fitz pressed his lips to her forehead.

“Talk to me,” he said, and how could she refuse?  “Please, Jemma, talk to me.”

She pressed her forehead harder against his, breathing slowly, in and out, until the words found her.

“It has a definition.”

“Love?”

She nodded against him.  “It's this thing we're supposed to feel.  It's an emotion, we feel it.  It's a feeling.”  She could tell from Fitz's silence that he didn't yet understand her, so she continued.  “Feelings change, Fitz.  And even when they don't, they always can.  And even so, I have loved before.  Friends, boyfriends, family.  I have people that I’ve loved before and I still love now.   I love Daisy completely, and I love Mack and May and all of them, and you.  I always love you.  You're the first person besides my family I ever loved and that can never, ever change.  But that wasn't this.”

Fitz lifted a hand to stroke her cheek.  “There are so many different types of love, Jemma.”

“I know,” she said, “I know, but this isn’t it.  Because I've loved so much and to call this love,” she squeezed him to her, as though to make sure he had no doubt what ‘this’ was, “that would do it a severe injustice.  It would cheapen it.  For me to call this love would be an insult to everything you are to me.”  She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.  “So I actually, I don't even want to say I love you, because I so much more then love you.  I just don't know how to tell you that.”

She opened her eyes and lifted her gaze to meet his and it took all her effort not to gasp at the sight that met her.  The complete undying affection, the utter adoration with which he looked at her was more than she had ever imagined deserving.

“Please say something,” she whispered.  

Instead, he kissed her hard, pulling her closer to her than she had previously thought possible, his touch warming every inch of her skin.  She rolled onto her back as he lay over her, kissing her as though he couldn’t imagine doing anything else again, for the rest of their lives.  And when the need for oxygen prevented him from kissing her any longer, he rolled his head to the side, gasping against her neck, and silently she screamed for him to say something.

His nose found hers and his lips just barely ghosted over her own.  

“I don’t love you,” he whispered.  “I absolutely, positively don’t love you.  Not even close.”

And she had never felt more beloved in her life.

**Author's Note:**

> So writing this, I got "Eli Eli" stuck in my head. If you don't know it, you should listen to it (Ofra Haza and Regina Spektor are probably my two favorite versions). And also just go to Hannah Senesh's Wikipedia page because she was just an absolutely amazing person and one of my personal heroes. The translation is:
> 
> _Oh lord, my God_  
>  _I pray that these things never end:_  
>  _The sand and the sea,_  
>  _The rush of the waters,_  
>  _The crash of the heavens,_  
>  _The prayer of the heart._


End file.
